


Paper Charms

by Demmora



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Dishonored 1, Ficlet, I have feels about witch!Emily Kaldwin and you can pry them from my marked cold hands, Low Chaos, Other, Tumblr Fic, happy birthday rat dad, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:24:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demmora/pseuds/Demmora
Summary: Short ficlet from the depths of tumblr prompts:Emily realizes Corvo's birthday passed while she was being held captive and draws him a birthday card.





	Paper Charms

* * *

She can't hear much from the outside world up here in the attic, but she hears enough to know that the Month of Rain has started. Which means it was Corvo's birthday only a few days ago, and she hadn't even realized. Time is so funny now, without lessons, without people to tell her what to do. She used to think she'd like that. Now she's not so sure.

She takes her time to fold the thin scrap yellowing paper over, careful to match up the edges, creasing the line with the dirty nail of her thumb.

She’s never had dirty nails before, at least not like this. There was always someone there to make her scrub them, the nursemaids, Corvo, her mothe—

She creases the line again, making sure it is straight, and pulls her meager box of crayons toward her. 

They’d been a gift from the woman called Sapphire, scrounged from who knows where. The men, the Pendleton twins wouldn’t let her have crayons, not since she’d tried to write to Corvo. But Sapphire had given them too her, and shown her where to hide them under a loose board in the floor. She likes Sapphire, she’s kind, in a sad sort of way, smiles despite the bruises. Emily had shared her sweet roll with her.

She takes her time selecting the right color to start with. Downstairs something thuds loudly and voices are raised. She stills, holding her breath and preparing to hide her work. But when she hears no footsteps climbing the stairs she lets out her breath and starts to draw.

She’s not sure why she draws his name in a circle. It just _feels_ right. She colors the outsides blue, and when she runs out, picks up the purple, making sure every inch is covered until her hands ache. It looks pretty enough, she supposes, and the squiggles and lines are…different…she frowns, they remind her of a dream… _A man with dark eyes smiling at her_

Another loud noise from downstairs makes her jump, and the memory is gone. 

She picks up the red crayon next, and opens up the card, carefully writing out a message, swapping it out for another color every other letter. When she’s done she returns her crayons to their hiding hole, and folds the paper up neat and tight. After a moment she hesitates, takes off her shoe and hides it under the insole. It’s not very comfortable, but that way no one can take it from her, and she can give it to Corvo when he comes.

Yes, she nods, it will be good to give him something when he comes…and he will come. Corvo always comes for her.

 

(#)

 

They’re three miles down the river before Corvo is able to relax, slumping down into his customary seat at the front of the boat. He can’t believe he has her…after all these months…

She’s watching Samuel pilot with rapt interest when the boat lurches and she stumbles backwards. It's second instinct to reach out and catch her before she falls. She looks up at him, a little green around the gills. “Boats are bumpy.”

“Yes,” Corvo agrees, tucking her into his lap as he had done when she was much, much younger. She doesn’t fight him now. “Especially old ones.”

“Sorry,” Samuel replies, slowing the boat somewhat to quiet the lurching. He’d taken off from the harbor at near breakneck speed, engine running before Corvo had even landed on the ground. The old man had even found a pistol from somewhere, and had been standing over her like a faithful old hound. It had made some of the tension in Corvo’s chest ease.

 _The boatman is a good man,_  her voice whispers from the Void, and Corvo shuts his eyes to block it out before he can hear her say Emily’s name…

“I made you something,” Emily informs him, wriggling about in his lap, striving to pull her foot up. He watches in bemused amusement as she pulls her shoe off, rummaging around inside until she pulls out a folded up square of paper. “Sorry it smells like feet.”

Corvo smiles, and takes it from her. “For me? Why?”

“For your birthday!” Emily replies, sounding indignant, “You didn’t forget your own birthday did you?”

He had, actually. Trivial things like turning one year older seem so small and meaningless when it feels like you’ve aged a thousand.

“Thank you,” he says, careful to keep the smile in his voice even as he frowns. The design is…odd…

”Did…did you see these marks somewhere?”

Emily merely shrugs, putting her shoe back on and sliding off his knee to peer over the side of the boat. “I had a dream.”

He opens it up, smiling at the childlike scrawl inside of _Happy Birthday,_ written in a multitude of colors. He folds it up neatly again, and secretes it away under his jacket, next to the bone charms that rattle and hiss in the back of his mind. Somehow they seem almost quieter…


End file.
